


Golden Eyes, Golden Lies

by blazingsnark



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls: Blades
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Gen, anyway kids are mean and I'm procrastinating a final paper by crossposting old stuff, blades training made rougher by specific idiots, i also wonder how many different dunmer have wandered in claiming the exact same thing, i wonder why that is, kids are mean and students are worse, nobody believes that the nerevarine's kid is the nerevarine's kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21657004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazingsnark/pseuds/blazingsnark
Summary: Blades training isn't designed to be easy, but unfortunately, it's not exactly designed to deter bullies, either.Originally written for TESblr OC Angst and Fluff Week.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Teasing

**Author's Note:**

> It's worth noting that this was supposed to be a FLUFF prompt. That... did not happen.

Blades training was harsh by design. Not everyone who wanted to be a Blade could be one - Blades had to not only fight to defend the Emperor and Empire, but also know its laws intimately, know its people and how to walk among them, understand information and power and the nature of it.

“And to do  _ that _ ,” snapped the Grandmaster, pacing like a caged alit in front of Sotha’s apprentice group - about thirty strong, now, after a year of training and half of them dropping out - “and to do  _ any _ of that, you’re going to have to get along with your fellow agents.”

He whirled. Razor focused green eyes honed in on Elayne, an older-teens Breton girl standing a row in front of Sotha. Sotha watched her shoulders go back under the strength of the glare - and watched, with no small amount of vindictive pleasure, Elayne’s finger stop tapping out code on the hand of Kalmasir, the taller Redguard apprentice beside her.

“Now.” The Grandmaster resumed his pacing, raking that piercing gaze over the group. “The agents teaching you aren’t blind.  _ I’m _ not blind. We  _ know _ when there’s teasing going on, and we know- and  _ you _ know - that is unacceptable. Blades do not squabble. Blades do not turn on each other. If you want to be Blades - and if you’re still here,” he added sourly, “and you’re ready to turn in the dossier for tomorrow, you have a damn good shot at it - if you want to be a Blades agent, this behavior will  _ cease _ .”

Nobody said a word. Someone in the back shifted their weight, and the click of Akaviri armor was so audible Sotha immediately tensed. The Grandmaster gave a curt nod.

“Dismissed,” he snapped, and stalked out of the room.

The apprentices relaxed from attention immediately. Sotha raised a gray hand to tug at her braided hair, glancing around as people gravitated toward small groups and hushed discussion. Elayne, she noticed, had gathered Kalmasir and the Altmer Miralnu, and was speaking in a rapid, hushed staccato to them. Her shoulders were tensed up and hunched like a cat ready to pounce.

A sick weight dropped into the pit of Sotha’s stomach.

She turned and made for the door.

* * *

The stone halls of the old Akaviri fortress were cold. Sotha flicked fire to gray fingertips and passed her hands over her arms, warming herself inside her armor. The start of thin paper walls marked the start of the apprentices’ quarters.

Someone was giggling.

Sotha walked faster.

Her room - used to be shared with five people, now only shared with one, as the others had dropped out of training - was at the end of two long hallways. She neared to see a stocky figure step from the sliding paper door and turn to face her.

Kalmasir was  _ grinning _ .

“Who’d you tell?” 

“Nobody.” Sotha met his dark gaze, trying not to flinch.

“Liar,” said Kalmasir.

“I’ve never fucking lied in my life.”

“So which one was the Altmer, your mommy or your daddy?”

It was a year-old tease, but it stung like a slap across her cheek still. Sotha blinked hard to keep the prickling from her golden eyes.

“I told you-!”

“You’d think she’d realize everyone knows she’s not the Nerevarine’s kid,” interrupted Elayne, stepping out from Sotha’s room and sauntering to Kalmasir’s side. She canted a hip out and settled her hand on it, somehow managing to look down her nose at Sotha even though Sotha was taller than her. “It’s kind of pathetic.”

“What were you doing in my room?” Sotha snapped. She tried to keep aggression from her tone. The moment the words fell from her mouth, she knew she’d failed.

Miralnu was the last one to emerge, her hands behind her back. She flanked Elayne’s other side. She said nothing, didn’t even look at Sotha - just stared uncomfortably down the hall.

The scent of lightning wafted off of her.

Sotha furrowed her brow. Elayne stepped forward, shoulder-checking Sotha aside.

“Lying to your fellow students, lying to the instructors...” She _tsked_ over her shoulder as she sauntered down the hall. “At least the instructors will know now, when you have to turn in  _ clearly _ fabricated work. Exactly  _ who’s _ the problem here.”

Sotha’s heart jumped into her throat. She spun, opening her mouth to shout, but nearly lost her balance as Kalmasir and Miralnu also stepped forward, Kalmasir’s elbow catching her hard in the ribs. Miralnu’s body checked her fall so she didn’t rip open the paper walls, but the Altmer immediately shoved her away, following her friends.

“You didn’t-!”

“It’s just like the Grandmaster said,” Elayne cast over her shoulder before she and the other two disappeared around the corner. “You’ve got to get along with your fellow agents. Right, liar-eyes?”

Half of Sotha - the half raised in the schemes of Boethiah and the anathema of defeat - wanted to rush after the three, to force them to apologize, to ensure they knew she wasn’t a  _ liar _ . But the rest of her screamed. The rest of her noted the lightning smell. Dread seized her as she spun, as she slammed open the paper screen and stepped into her room-

If her heart had been in her throat before, now it had completely vanished, leaving her lightheaded as she stared at the destruction.

Burned, charred bits of paper covered the room like the snowfall outside. Neat writing was still visible on some. On most, the ink was burned beyond relief. The leather cover of Sotha’s dossier, one of the final assignments for a Blade agent, the assignment that determined if you were fit to walk in the shadows as a spymaster-

ruined.

Completely destroyed.

Sotha staggered forward, trying to pick up the paper, trying to push bits together, trying to figure out what went where and maybe this could be reconstructed and maybe there could be an extension and she was no longer moving, she was on the floor, paper bits falling from her fingers as her hands curled over her head. A choking, gasping sob clogged her throat and drew air back into her lungs.

This was no longer just  _ teasing _ .

Sotha wished she hadn’t told the truth.


	2. Breakdown

The dossier was unsalvageable. Whatever lightning Miralnu had hit it with resisted any of Sotha’s attempts to brush off the ash, make out the words, anything.

The pile of paper scraps at the center of the room flickered in the candlelight, even more unreadable now. Sotha scrabbled through her trunk. Clothes, weapons kit, a tiny statuette… Where were her notes? Maybe she could rewrite the dossier. If she just had the information-

But her notebook wasn't there. None of her notebooks were. Sotha dumped the contents of her trunk out onto the ground, went through her bedding, nearly tore apart the paper screens around the room before it truly sank in.

Elayne must have stolen her notes.

Miralnu had been complaining about not having her dossier done….

That must have been what Elayne promised her to destroy Sotha’s work.

Sotha collapsed to the floor with a dull thump. Her head buzzed. She stared blankly around the room, all in disarray, everything out of place and looking like some wild animal had gone through it.

“Damn good chance, my ass,” she muttered, remembering the Grandmaster’s words. And then she laughed. And then a sob came up on the heels of that laugh, and Sotha curled over, put her face in her hands, and shook.

What now? What could she do now? Nothing. There was nothing to be done. The dossier had taken a full year of research and listening and spying and decoding. How long was it until morning, when it had to be turned in? Not a year.

Sotha lifted her head and stared at the window. Soft, crystalline snow glistened outside - a fresh fall, the first of the year. The night sky was completely covered with clouds. She couldn't even see the moon.

How long was it until morning? Who knew.

She'd heard, if you sat in the snow long enough, you'd fall asleep and not wake up again.

Sotha moved without really thinking about it, standing, leaving her room and its mess of guilt and dread behind. She got partway down the hall before realizing she still wore her Akaviri Blades armor.

Eh. Fuck it. Sotha’s fingers moved as she kept walking, loosening her bracers first and letting them drop, then the greaves, then the breastplate at the entrance to the dining hall. The loose spider silk undershirt beneath it billowed out, damp with her sweat.

She stepped outside.

There was no wind. Just cold. Sotha wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, boots crunching as she took a step, then another, then another. Maybe she should just go back inside-

But what was waiting for her there but depression?

She could run away. Right now. Back to Miphlat Shelanu, back to Arafel, back to…

But that wouldn't work either, because the last time she saw her mother, they fought. Better to just sit. Sit and wait - for sunrise or for sleep.

Sotha sat.

Instantly the cold got worse. Sotha gritted her teeth and hugged herself, nearly lighting fires at her fingertips before remembering that would be counterproductive. The night was still and perfect except for the sound of Sotha’s chattering teeth.

Okay, she decided after what felt like a few minutes. This wasn't working. Maybe it would still work if she sat in a chair instead of the snow.

Sotha clumsily stood up, snow clinging to her butt and thighs. She didn't bother to brush it off. The fortress wasn't far enough away to care.

Back into the dining hall. All the chairs were stacked against the walls, fenced in by the long benches. Right, Sotha remembered dimly. Dueling lessons used the dining hall when the training ring was too icy to be safe. Huh.

She walked over and grabbed the end of a bench.

It  _ scraped _ horribly across the stone floor as Sotha dragged it toward the door. Nobody came out. Nobody woke up- or cared. Sotha dragged it a little faster, throwing her whole weight against the bench.

The doors were a struggle. Sotha managed to wedge the bench in between the heavy doors and pry them open that way, thrusting both herself and her prize back out into the snow. The bench’s legs made long, straight tracks in the fresh snow crust. Sotha paused to admire them for a moment.

Then she dropped the other end of the bench, and lay down on it.

It was still cold. But at least it wasn't wet anymore. That made things less cold. Sotha wiggled her toes in her boots and imagined throwing the charred bits of her dossier into the snow. Then she imagined throwing Elayne after them. That was a much better image. 

She was probably sleeping like a baby, that fetching woman. Sotha took a deep breath and swung her legs off the bench, standing up. She wasn't cold enough yet to go to sleep and not see the sun.

Back inside the fortress.

The students weren't allowed to have alcohol. But everyone knew where it was kept, and Sotha was the best damn lockpicker in her year.

Only a few minutes later, she was back out in the snow, a bottle of Cyrodilic brandy in her hand, the liquor cabinet in the instructors’ wing left hanging wide open. Fuck them. Let them all see what they were losing as a Blades agent. Someone who could walk in shadows, someone who was unfairly attacked. Maybe she'd become a martyr.

Sotha took a long drink and lay back down on the bench.

She was tired. Not physically, but her mind felt like she'd just had a good long cry - exhausted, ready to lie there and do nothing or sleep. So that's what she did. Sotha just lay there, stretched out on the bench in the snow, the stolen brandy in her hand.

Eventually, the dark sky changed to… not so dark. The east lightened as Azura began to cast her veil over the horizon, her warning to Nocturnal.

Damn. Not long enough. She couldn't even escape that easily?

Her fingers were going numb. Sotha rolled over onto her stomach, blowing on her fingers to warm them before she gave in and just created a little flame. The heat felt divine against her frozen face. Her teeth resumed chattering.

She looked back up toward the fortress. Lights were starting to wink in some of the instructors’ chambers.

Why the hell did they put up with Elayne? Sotha wasn't the only person scared of her, she was sure. She didn't  _ know _ anyone else who was, but, well. If things had gotten so bad that the Grandmaster himself found the need to come talk to them…

They put up with Elayne because nobody spoke up. Because nobody wanted to be more of a target.

What the  _ fuck _ else could she do to Sotha, though?

Sotha took another long pull of brandy, nearly choked on it going down, and coughed until she could feel her chest again. The bench had left a splinter in her arm. She pulled it out and flicked it into the snow.

Fuck it. She was going to be tossed out anyway, probably. Why bother trying to fit in? Why bother trying to appease her peers? Who cared about getting along with these people, especially if she wasn't going to be an agent alongside them?

If everyone was going to hate her, they could do so with a  _ lot _ less work on Sotha’s part.

The dawn peeked over the horizon, painting the sky in color, staining the clouds pale gold. Sotha sat up to watch it.

Faces started to appear at the student windows. Sotha barely gave them a glance before she turned back to the dawn’s light. When the sun was halfway up and faces were still at the windows - students wondering what the fuck she was doing in the snow at sunrise, on a dining hall bench drinking instructor liquor - she gave them a rude gesture and stood up.

She left the brandy and the bench where they were. The heavy fortress doors had frozen a little overnight. She had to crack the frost on the hinges before heaving them open.

“Sotha, what are you doing?” someone hissed as she came back into the trainee wing. Sotha ignored them, ignored the sleepy faces poking from behind the paper screens.

Her own room was still disheveled and fully tossed. The dossier scraps still lay in their heap on the floor. It had been a pretty long dossier; even its scraps came halfway to Sotha’s knees in the pile.

A bag. She didn't have a bag. There was a woven basket, left by one of her roommates when he failed out of training. Sotha grabbed it and started scooping dossier bits into it.

Once the basket was heaping full, she stepped out again.

Fewer sleepy faces. Sotha’s own face was starting to warm up, feeling starting to circulate in her toes again. Walking became a little painful, but who cared? Not her. Not anymore.

She walked straight into the instructors’ wing.

The liquor cabinet still hung open; Sotha kicked it shut as she walked past. The espionage instructor was a Bosmer, Andnrel, a lithe elf who refused to admit their gender to any student and tossed out contradictory lies about their background just to fuck with people. Sotha knew where their room was.

Their door wasn't locked. She kicked it open and ignored their stare, their start up from where they had been reading in bed, their immediate, stammering questions- “what? What are you doing? Is that you, Sotha? Leave! You're not supposed to be here!”

She strode across to their desk and dumped the charred paper bits from the basket. The paper spilled like an avalanche. Some bits scattered to the floor, but most piled up into a heap, ash and paper and some smudges of ink on each.

She set the basket down and turned to face Andnrel. A few other instructors had gathered at the door, she saw now. Oh, goody. Let them all wring their hands and do nothing.

“Elayne, Kalmasir, and Miralnu destroyed my dossier,” she announced at them all. “And Miralnu stole my work.”

She expected dead silence. Instead, the instructors all immediately pressed forward, the Grandmaster having to give a sharp whistle for order among his agents. Sotha watched in numb shock as Andnrel nodded, sympathetic anger in the arch of their brows; as Turyel the mage pressed forward to start casting over Sotha’s ruined dossier; as the Grandmaster immediately ordered two agents to go detain Elayne and Kalmasir and Miralnu and bring them here. Someone pulled her away by the shoulders. Assurances, reassurances, Turyel’s announcement that the dossier was a storm atronach’s work and she might be able to fix it. Andnrel’s arm around her shoulders.

They cared. Not just superficially, and not just because her eyes were Nerevarine-gold - but actually  _ cared _ .

For some reason, this - not the long night, not the stress, not the breakdown and all that came with it - no,  _ this  _ was the thing that finally brought tears to Sotha's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the day I stop tormenting my own characters will probably be very close to the day I actually remember to crosspost things when I write them
> 
> today? today is Not That Day


End file.
